


12 Days of Oneshots

by Whizzers_Ass



Series: Falsettos Oneshots [1]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Gay Marvin (Falsettos), Gen, HIV/AIDS, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, One Shot, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Canon, Weddings, Whizzer Brown & Jason Friendship, Whizzer Brown loves Marvin, post-death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whizzers_Ass/pseuds/Whizzers_Ass
Summary: 12 oneshots for the 12 days of Christmas. Everyday, I'll update this with a oneshot, finishing on January 5th. Some of these may be romances, some might be friendships, aus, or anything. Tags will be updated with each new day, so the tags may only be applied to some fics.
Relationships: Dr. Charlotte/Cordelia (Falsettos), Trina/Mendel Weisenbachfeld, Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: Falsettos Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599532
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	1. Rainbow Sprinkles

**Author's Note:**

> Jason goes to Marvin's house for the weekend, but instead finds just Whizzer.

“Looks like it’s just you and me bud.” Whizzer sat at the table, his legs propped up on another chair. He watched Jason set his suitcase and computer by the door. It was  
a Friday night, and Trina just dropped him off for the weekend.  
“Where’s dad?” Jason sat down across from Whizzer. His tone was almost hopeful, glad to have have one-on-one time with him.  
Whizzer waved his air, dismissing the figurative Marvin. “Overtime. You won’t see him until tomorrow. So,” Whizzer shifted in his chair. “That means you and I get to do something fun. Come on.” He stood up, snatching his car keys by the door. He called for Jason to follow him. A smile broke out on his face, and he quickly followed him. The  
pair hopped into Whizzer’s car, with Jason taking shotgun.  
“Where you want to go, kid?” Whizzer hardly looked up from the wheel, as he started the car.  
“I honestly don’t care, I just like hanging out with you.”  
Whizzer looked at Jason, a warm smile on his face. “That’s the spirit kid.” He settled his hands on the wheel. “We’re getting ice cream, bitch.”  
Jason smiled back at Whizzer. One of the reasons he was so fond of him was that he didn’t treat him like a child. He didn’t think something was wrong with him, and treated him like an adult, and wasn’t afraid to swear in front of him.  
The engine started to hum, and the cheap car rolled out of the driveway. Jason looked out the window, admiring the small suburban town. After the divorce, his father and Whizzer moved into a smaller town. Every weekend, he tried his best to soak in the slower life of the suburbs, for in a few days he would be back in the bustle of the city.  
“How was Trina’s?” Whizzer had one hand on the wheel.  
Jason stole his gaze from the scenery and put it on Whizzer. “Good, I guess.” The two sat in silence for a moment. “Do you like Trina, Whizzer?”  
This took him by surprise, but Whizzer shook it off with a laugh. “Well, she’s very sweet, I’ll give her that. But I have to resent her on some level, she is my boyfriend’s ex-wife.” Whizzer’s hand went for Jason’s. “But kid, she’s your mother, and I really want you to know that. Be nice to her, we all know she needs it.” Whizzer gave him a soft squeeze before letting go.  
The two talked for the rest of the drive, about Jason’s little league baseball team, about chess, about anything really. Too soon, the little car pulled into a Dairy Queen parking lot.  
“What’s your favorite type of ice cream, Jason?” They stood inside the little shop, admiring the painter’s palette of ice cream. Colors of ice cream ranged from deep reds to pastel blues to neon greens.  
“Rocky road.” Jason replied, his voice breathless.  
Whizzer squeezed Jason’s shoulder. “Alright kid, go grab a table and I’ll order for us.” Jason ran off, reserving a table right by the window. A few minutes passed, and Whizzer ordered their ice creams. He finally sat down, passing Jason his order of rocky road. He looked at Whizzer’s order for a second, before smiling. “Rainbow sprinkles, really? That’s pretty gay, dad.”  
Whizzer almost choked. Did he just call him dad? Jason didn’t seem to notice it, and continued to eat his ice cream, but that almost brought Whizzer to tears.  
“Well, pretty gay is who I am.” Whizzer played it off, but his heart swelled three sizes from that comment.


	2. Cherry Chapstick Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin tries to cook, but Whizzer is distracting him.

“Whizzer, stop it.”

Marvin stood in the kitchen, chopping carrots. His lover stood behind him, grabbing his ass. Marvin shooed away Whizzer’s wandering hands, but they kept returning.

“Whizzer, I’m serious.” Marvin scolded him, returning to his cooking.

“What?” Whizzer’s tone was coy and low. His hands left Marvin’s backside, travelling to his hips. Whizzer’s own hips pressed against Marvin’s.

“Jeez, I’m trying to cook. You can’t cook for shit, so unless you leave me alone we’re starving.” Marvin tried to throw off Whizzer, but he persisted. He sighed. “Fine, be a dick.”

“Oh please.” Whizzer huffed. “We can just order pizza or something.”

“Or.” Marvin started. “We can eat together after I painstalking made this meal for my lover.” Marvin finished cutting up the last vegetables, and dumped them into the stew. “There, done.”

“Finally.” Whizzer slid his hands around Marvin’s waist, trying to reach through his buttons to his bare chest. 

“God, you’re so horny.” Marvin teased. He spun around, facing his lover. Grabbing his chest, he pushed him against the wall. “And God, you’re so pretty.” Marvin reached up to Whizzer’s lips, catching his breath. He tasted of warm summer days and cool popsicles, a vibrant cherry flavor. His lips were soft, pushing against Marvin’s own. His hands slid to Whizzer’s hips, holding his body against his. Whizzer’s hands strayed to Marvin’s shirt, slowly undoing each button, until he was able to slip his hands into his shirt. Delicate fingers traced his back, lingering over each groove in his body.

They pulled apart from each other, their eyes locked. 

“I taste your chapstick.” Marvin teased.

Whizzer flashed a smile back towards Marvin. “Want another taste?”

Marvin pulled in once more, once again tasting his cherry chapstick lips.


	3. What is Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Marvin's wedding day, and he contemplates what love is.

Love. What is it? Many people seem to throw that term around a lot, without much thought to it. That they fell in love with a stranger on the street, or are in love their two-week girlfriend. Many people describe it as a warm, bubbly feeling. Deep feelings of admiration for another person, trust and respect.  
Marvin’s never known any of that. So what was he doing, marrying someone?  
Truth was, he wasn’t sure. He’s never felt anything of what love could be mistaken for towards Trina. But yet he was in too deep.  
He was getting married today. Today we would walk down the aisle, taking his fiancee by the arm. He’d claim his undying love for her, then he’d kiss her. No passion would be in that kiss, and she would be once again disappointed by Marvin.  
Marvin wasn’t dumb, he knew that he dissapointed Trina. He saw it in her face every time he made up an excuse to not have sex, to not kiss her. There were always excuses as to why he couldn’t hold her hand. And when he did, there wasn’t anything tender. It was all professional.  
He’d say his vows today. He’d be trapped for the rest of his life, without love. Something so forgein to him, but something he knew was unachievable. He knew what he’d have to sacrifice to find love, and he wasn’t brave enough to do that. Even if he were, there was no guarantee of love.  
He wondered if love was even a thing. Marvin’s never felt an ounce of it before, and he’s never seen anyone experience it. His parents were prime examples. They certainly didn’t love each other, they always fought. Nor did they love Marvin. He had to beg and throw a fit just to eat breakfast on his fourteenth birthday. They were always gone, leaving Marvin to do whatever he wanted. And look how that turned out.  
Trina was pregnant. The very thought sickened him, that in just under nine months he would be a father. Maybe then he might learn love.  
He vowed to himself that he’d love this child, no matter how much work it took.  
No matter how shitty he would become, he’d protect his child, protect him from being in his own shoes, marrying a woman he didn’t love.  
Maybe that right there was love.


	4. The Mundane Sets In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple night between the couples.  
> Title from A Way Back To Then from [title of show]

A grandfather clock chimed in the background. Marvin sat at in a comfy chair, reading a novel. It was a Tuesday night, and he came back from work an hour ago.  
Whizzer entered the room, carrying a silver platter, carrying two cups filled with inky tea. He handed one to Marvin, and browsed the shelf. His fingers lingered over every other book before picking one up. He chose a seat across from Marvin, and settled down.  
"Work was fine, Marv?" Whizzer asked, not bothering to look up from his book.  
Marvin muttered a yes, and continued with his book. Whizzer smiled for a minute, taking in his boyfriend.

>*<

Cordelia stood in the kitchen, cooking a surprise. Her girlfriend helped, obediently slicing the vegetables.  
Cordelia guided her on what to do, Charlotte insisting she knew what she was doing. The two bickered, each remark filled with playful love.  
Cordelia squeezed past Charlotte, their apartment kitchen being a tight fit for one alone.   
Charlotte snuck a squeeze on her thigh as she passed; her lover throwing her a playful smile. The two snuck a quick kiss, and continued to cook their dinner.

>*<

A couple sat together, wrapped under a blanket. A large 12 inch screen played a movie, and the two cuddled.  
Tina's hand crawled into Mendel's hair; as she started to massage his scalp. Mendel's head rested on Trina's shoulder, relaxing as she tossed his hair. The two laughed at the movie, and shared a quiet kiss.


	5. Sick from Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin gets ready for Jason's fourteenth birthday.

Marvin went through his drawers, tossing over carefully folded clothes. It's been months since he last opened this drawer, it was full of dress clothes. Suit jackets and ties filled the dusty drawer.  
He stopped. A faded leather jacket was tucked in the corner. He thought he got rid of all his clothes. Shaky hands reached out, softly pulling the jacket out. Marvin's breathing grew quicker and more shallow. Tears threatened to pour. Burying his face in the leather, a few tears poured. It still faintly smelled like him, a hint of fruity perfume under all the dust.  
It was the last clothing item he had left of Whizzer. He threw everything out shortly after he passed, not able to bare the pain that came along with his pastel shirts. Apparently not everything.  
Marvin couldn't cry now. It was Jason's fourteenth birthday dinner. He had to pull himself together. He tried to not think about the other anniversary of that day.  
He threw the jacket back in his closet, unable to throw it away. He'll allow himself to keep that one jacket.  
Composing himself, he continued to search for something to wear. Settling on wearing a plain white shirt, he stripped his own shirt off. His reflection caught his eye. Each rib struck out, harsh shadows on his chest. He looked down at his hands, hardly more than skin on bones.   
Marvin knew he was sick. That after Whizzer went, he would follow. He remembered what he looked like. Marvin checked nearly every box.  
A dry cough distracted his thoughts. With a sigh, he continued getting dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and saw a lot of the chapters were really weirdly formatted? I don't know why, but I went back and fixed that.


	6. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Whizzin soulmate death timer au, from Marvin's pov.

Soulmates, something everyone has. They can be found in a stranger on the street, the person in front of you in the coffee shop line, or miles away.  
Seems like an impossible task, finding one out of billions. Luckily, everyone has a timer on their wrist, only visible to their soulmate.  
It counts down your every breath, to when you'll take your final one. Not very sweet, but neither is love. Love is harsh and unforgiving, brothers with death.  
I went nearly forty years of my life without seeing any numbers. I even married, yet no time marked her wrist.  
Until I met him.  
A pretty boy with soft brown eyes. Perfectly messy hair that fell over his face. A flamboyant walk, so that anyone could make out what he was from a mile away.  
I left my wife and kid so I could be with him, to be able to have my lips against his own. Never once had we talked about our markers to each other, always ignoring the topic of our deaths.   
Whizzer and I sat under the sun, huddled on a blanket floating in a sea of grass. A picnic basket spilled fruits, breads, all carefully prepared by Whizzer. He insisted we have a picnic on my day off of work.  
I tugged at sweater, regretting my apparel. Whizzer buttered a piece of bread, trying to tame the frozen butter. He muttered colorful sentences under his breath, cursing the cold butter.  
"Here, Marv. Put this in your sweater pocket for a bit. Warm it a little." Whizzer handed me the butter, giving up.  
"Beaten by butter, Mr. Brown?" I teased. Whizzer playfully slapped my leg in return.   
"Hey Marvin." Whizzer stared at the brilliant sky, the sun covering his face with a hint of gold. "I took you out today for a reason. Not just because I love you, but to ask you something."  
"You love me? That's pretty gay, not going to lie." Whizzer threw me a glare, not in the mood to joke.  
"No, Marvin, when am I going to die?" Whizzer's hand subconsciously dropped to his wrist, running over his numbers.  
He had just under three years to live. I don't know why he died so young. Just that his time was running out.  
But his almost desperate face kept me from getting those words out.  
"Another fourty years, Whiz. You'll be in your eighties." I lied through my smile.  
His face dropped for a second, almost disappointment. A smile replaced it a second later.  
"Same for you." Whizzer replied, his face overly cheery."


	7. The Baseball Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer is twelve again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two today, as I will be gone Tuesday/Wednesday. So I'll make it up today, and Thursday with two oneshots so everything should be as if I posted normally.

Whizzer pouted in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. A little league jersey hung from his gangly frame, a body his father told him he'd grow into. His hair was cut close to his scalp, a hairstyle his father insisted he have.  
He hated his hair, preffering it to grow out, to let it fall in his eyes. He hated the little league team he was on.  
His father caught him trying on his sister's clothes, sneaking into her room for her pink shirts and fruity perfume.  
 _It will man you up_. He insisted, signing him up for the first sport he could. _I'm not raising a homo_.  
Whizzer wasn't sure what that word meant, he learned it was bad. His father would constantly berate them, reading the newspapers and scoffing at whatever they were up to.  
Whatever it was, Whizzer seemed to fall into every behavior his father hated. He cried, something his father told him boys shouldn't do. Whatever remarks his father made about women, he didn't understand. However, those comments did seem to apply for his Male friends. Whizzer liked cooking and photography, something his father kept him from. Apparently the clothes were the last straw.  
So there he was, on the little league baseball team. Truth was, he didn't hate baseball; he rather enjoyed the sport. He hated his father, and thus this team. He hated how his father made sure his hair was cut short, never wore a girl color, never cried, or did anything he wanted to. He'd reinforce these ideas by hand, leaving soft discoloration in his skin.  
There he was, the pitcher for the little league team, hiding in the bathroom. His mother begged him to hurry up, that they would be late for the game.   
Makeup was hidden in the drawers of the vanity. Whizzer pulled it out, and started applying a hint of makeup. A bit of blush, a hint of eyeliner, a touch of mascara. He knew his father would hate it. He would be punished for it, with his father's favorite belt.  
Only six more years, then he would be free to leave. Free to grow out his hair, free to wear soft colors. Free to be himself.


	8. Happy Anniversary to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trina celebrates her 10th anniversary of marriage.

Marvin was out again, with God knows who. She dropped hints for the last week, hoping for Marvin to finally do something for their 10th anniversary. Trina woke that mourning, cooking an extravagant breakfast for the two of them.  
Marvin said nothing of it, before promptly leaving for work. And now he was gone with another woman, probably screwing her against a wall, telling her how much he loves her. Kissing her neck, bathing in her fruity perfume.  
He'd come back late at night, smelling of cigarettes, sex, and that stupid fruity perfume. Small hickies would freckle his neck, poorly covered by his shirt. Trina would always pretend to be asleep when he came back, that she had no clue that he was seeing other women behind her back.  
Some desperate voice from the back of her head had hoped that for just one night, Marvin would do that to her. Have the decency to not sneak out, and to pay attention to her. To love her.  
A cup of tea sat in her shaky hands, as she sat at the dining table. A sliver of the front door was visible from her chair, where she frantically checked to wait for Marvin to come home.  
It was fruitless. The clock chimed twelve times. Marvin missed their anniversary. Their tenth anniversary.  
As a little girl, she always pictured herself with a loving husband, taken out to fine restaurants on weekend nights. That was her plan.  
Funny how such simple laid plans could go askew. 


	9. I'll Die on May 27th at 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin shows up at Trina's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for not updating this, there was a lot going on irl and a general lack of inspiration, but I'm back now. I'll just continue updating as if it were normal. Again, sorry for the lack of updates. I do, however, have something big coming up soon.

Marvin paced across the floor, muttering to himself. His words were rapid; delirious. A neatly pressed suit sat on the hotel bed, tossed haphazardly aside.  
Trina was getting married that day. Getting married to his shrink. He wasn't sure what made him come, especially after the huge scene he made when he got the invitation. Was it to prove something? To whom? Trina? Mendel? Jason? Maybe even Whizzer? or even possibly himself?  
Whatever drove him to attend, he was now cursing it. He wasn't sure he could bear to see Trina walking down the isle for the second time, but for someone who wasn't him. To commit herself to someone who wasn't Marvin. This time she wouldn't be pregnant, this time wasn't planned last minute due to a child. No, this time was planned ahead, walked into. Not shoved into from a child.  
Marvin groaned, before collapsing on the floor. He didn't even have Whizzer to cope with. They already broke up months ago. He pulled himself up, only to grab expensive hotel whiskey before falling back on the floor.   
_Drinking before the wedding_. He thought to himself. _Classy move, Marv_. The voice took the form of Whizzer's. He could almost picture him in the hotel bathroom, checking his hairline, looking pretty. Marvin would throw back a remark, and Whizzer would help Marvin undress, only to merely help him get dressed. Not that they wouldn't sneak kisses.  
With that bittersweet image, Marvin pulled himself together to get ready for the wedding.

>*<

He was right. Sitting through it all, watching Trina take her vows was terrible. The whole thing seemed to be a giant "fuck you" to Marvin. The promise of "death till we do part", the scornful glances of her father, whisperings of their relationship from her family. How Jason avoided him. Who would have thought being an ex-husband at his ex-wife's wedding would have been fun?  
As soon as the wedding party started, Marvin immediately headed towards the bar. The meager amount of liquor from earlier was doing him no good. He took a seat at the bar, and watched the crowd.  
He could have sworn to see Whizzer's face a few times. He wished he was here, so that they could dance together. Hand in hand, pressing their bodies together.  
Jason sat at a table, looking equally uncomfortable? What was the kid doing, if not with his father? Marvin took a shot for the road, having already an uncountable amount.  
Jason immediately saw his father, and his bored face quickly slipped into a disgusted one. He tried to slip away, but Marvin called out.  
"Hey kid! Where do you think you're going?" His voice slurred, a little too loud. Judging faces turned, taking in the scene. Of the drunk ex-husband calling out the bride's son.  
"To Mom." Despite his words, he had no clue where she was, remaining victim to Marvin.  
"Of course, 'to Mom'. It's always Mom. It's never me, your father!". Jason grew far more uncomfortable by the second. More eyes turned. "What the hell do I gotta do to talk to my own goddamn son?"  
Trina made her way out of the crowd, clutching her dress. "Marv, what are you doing?" Her soft hands reached out for Marvin, trying for comfort.  
He threw her hands off. "Don't touch me, Bitch. I'm trying to talk to my son!" Trina's hand retracted, fear in her eyes, fear of when he first received the invitation and what happened, and what might happen now.  
But her lips moved in this time, to his ear. Her soft voice whispered, "Marvin, just go home."  
Marvin looked around, seeing everyone staring at him. With a groan, he left the garden, firing up his cheap car. Mendel muttered soft words as he left.  
"I knew we shouldn't have invited him."


	10. A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trina gets ready for her date.

Trina stood in front of her closet, frantically going through her clothes. She had to look perfect.  
Each skirt was just a little bit too short, each top just the wrong color. The shoes, which once matched with everything, looked good with nothing.  
She tried to calm herself, to no avail. She was going on a date. Going on a date with Marvin. For months she's admired him in the halls, his bouncy waves and cocky smile. And yesterday he asked her out. She thought she was dreaming, yet here she was, three hours away from their date.  
Trina had to look perfect, had to make sure her makeup was on point, her hair curled perfectly.   
It normally wouldn't take her this long, but never before had she paid so much attention to how she looked. And today, her looks weren't enough. She just hoped that Marvin would be able to look past everything.  
She was so excited for their life together.


	11. That Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Diner au with Whizzer as a waiter. Marvin goes out to eat and can't help but to notice that face.

Marvin hid behind his menu, the colorful boxes advertising milkshakes of every flavour imaginable. He was hiding like a child.  
The day so far has disguised itself in the mundane routine, even the once colorful weekly visit to _Cordelia's Diner and Milkshakes was_ now bleak and grey. But now he felt like he was dreaming.  
He felt something touch his hand. "Marv, are you okay?" Trina' eyes met his, Marvin quickly hiding once more.  
He mumbled feeble reassurances as he fled back to the menu, his eyes keep flicking up to him.  
A waiter, a pretty boy dressed in a baby blue getup with matching roller skates. An apron hugged his waist, dancing as he whizzed down the diner.  
He stopped at a table, his hair falling into his face. His back was turned, and Marvin couldn't help but to stare. He wasn't sure why he was so infatuated with this man, but his eyes couldn't peel away.  
He couldn't help but to admire his slender figure, the little tilt in his head, and the pants that hugged his figure. The man peeked over his shoulder, and Marvin threw the menu back up. His eyes ran over the words, taking none in.  
 _A child_. He chided himself. _Just like a child_. Truth be told, he wasn't sure why he was acting this way, or why he felt like this.  
A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "What will it be, hon?" Marvin laid down the menu, seeing that face. That unmistakable face. A nametags on his shirt read "Whizzer". What kind of name was that?  
Marvin panicked, realizing he hadn't looked at the menu. He'll have to stick with the usual. He lingered for a second, trying to remember what he typically ordered.  
"Two eggs and a sausage."  
Whizzer smiled at him. "Sir, it's five o'clock. We aren't serving breakfast."  
Marvin felt his face get hot. Right, they were here for milkshakes, celebrating the end of the week.  
"Vanilla milkshake."  
Whizzer's eyes drifted down to his notepad, scribbling the order. With a smile, he skated off to the order window, Marvin's eyes following. He'd have to make sure to tip extra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was lacking inspiration for what to post today, and I did a thing based off the first song from shuffling my playlist, which happened to be "That Face" from Dogfight the musical, hence the title. Also saw a tumblr post about this au and loved it, so this came to be.


	12. Makeup and Making Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standing in his cheap New York apartment, he makes a small victory to take himself back.

Whizzer stood in his apartment bathroom, studying himself in the mirror. Shaky hands fingered over the box in front of him. A makeup kit. His breathing was quick and shallow, unable to find a regular pattern.

Ever since he was a kid, he’d vowed that once he moved out he’d live his life as his own. He wouldn’t let his father take write his story anymore. He’d pick up the pen, writing the words he wanted to. 

But he wasn’t sure he could do it. It’s been a few months since his eighteenth birthday. The moment the clock struck twelve, he packed his bags and left the house. He didn’t have a plan, he slept on the Nebraska streets for a week or two. He managed to snap enough odd jobs, and ditched his home state for a crappy New York apartment.

He was an adult, who made his own decisions.

In that period of time, he let his hair grow out. He ditched his old clothes, resorting to the women’s section in the thrift shops to afford what he wanted. It was strange to look in the mirror and see a stranger. A stranger he always wanted to meet, but wasn’t sure if he was ready to.

He wasn’t sure anyone else wanted to either. Ever since he changed his wardrobe, people threw nasty stares and muttered comments under their breath. His father made him uncomfortable enough as it was. He could feel his judging glare from states away. No matter how much he wanted to rid his words, he couldn’t leave him. He was like a shadow, always following him out of sight. 

Whizzer snapped back to reality, seeing his hands floating above the powders. Impulse decisions were his best bet, often wrong. Without hesitation, he reached for the brushes. It wasn’t much, just a little bit of a touch-up. He barely registered what he was doing until he stared at himself in the mirror. A small smile broke on his face, seeing him taking himself back.


End file.
